


Running Up That Hill

by Shknofftherust



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, no ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29616513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shknofftherust/pseuds/Shknofftherust
Summary: “‘Owen, I’ve let you talk me into some insane shit over the years, but this is too much.’“Look,” Owen’s eyes soften, “you would be doing me a huge favour...”Jamie stubs her cigarette out, “You’re challenging me to prove that I’m a fully reformed member of society by faking a whirlwind romance with your heterosexual, American cousin which will ultimately culminate in an extremely illegal green card marriage?’”Or, Dani and Owen are cousins and Dani really needs a green card.
Relationships: Dani Clayton & Jamie, Dani Clayton & Owen Sharma, Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma, Jamie & Owen Sharma
Comments: 96
Kudos: 277





	1. The Garden

**Author's Note:**

> So, have you ever jokingly said something like, “Wouldn’t it be nuts to do a Proposal inspired fake dating Damie fic?” Only for your friend to say “Huh, you should do it.”
> 
> ...because same. 
> 
> So, uhh I primarily write in the TLOU2 tag but I guess I’m here now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There is a brief mention of self-harm in the second to last paragraph of section II.

“Owen, I’ve let you talk me into some insane shit over the years, but this is too much.”

Jamie exhales a thick puff of smoke to punctuate the end of her sentence and leans back in her chair, rolling her eyes for good measure. They’re sitting out back behind Owen’s restaurant, A Batter Place, on an uncharacteristically warm English spring day, and Jamie is regretting her decision to meet up with him more with each passing second.

“Look,” Owen’s eyes soften as he pushes an ashtray across the table, a silent reminder that he doesn’t want ashes left on the ground, “you would be doing me a huge favour, James.”

“James?” Jamie huffs, “You’re gonna call me that while begging for a favour? A highly illegal favour, I should add.”

“Oh yeah?” Owen teases as he raises an eyebrow, “Since when do you care about breaking the law?”

Jamie barks out a laugh and taps some ash out into the ashtray, “I’ve turned over a new leaf, mate. I’m not the same kid you knew from the neighborhood anymore.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Prove it,” Owen leans forward with a wicked twinkle in his eye, “prove that you’re reformed by going above and beyond for someone who isn’t green and leafy.”

Jamie stubs her cigarette out in the ashtray and immediately shakes another one out of the pack, “You’re challenging me to prove that I’m a fully reformed member of society by faking a whirlwind romance with your heterosexual, American cousin which will ultimately culminate in an extremely illegal green card marriage?”

Owen flinches, “Well, when you put it like that…” He tips his head back and runs his hands through his hair, “You’re right. It’s completely mental for me to even ask. I’m sorry, mate.”

And the thing is, he really does look apologetic, which is just one of a hundred things Jamie loves about him. This is the same man who stuck his neck out to vouch for her with his own employer when she’d just been released from prison. They’d been out of touch since their late teens, and back then she had been known as something of a troublemaker. Still, when he saw that she was having a hard time finding work, he spoke to the Wingraves at Bly Manor where he worked as their personal chef, and told them that he knew a good gardener. It was a big risk for Owen to take, and he did it willingly.

Knowing this about him, knowing the way that he’s willing to do anything for someone he loves, it comes as no surprise to Jamie that he’s willing to put himself at her mercy for a cousin who is in a tight spot, and from the way Owen tells it, it sounds like the tight spot Danielle finds herself in is not unlike the one Jamie herself was in a few years back: trapped, and on the cusp of reinvention. 

“Okay,” she pauses to light the cigarette dangling from her lips, “let’s just say I was mad enough to actually consider this. How the hell is this supposed to work? I don’t even know this American cousin of yours.” Her nose wrinkles when she says the word “American”, as though she can taste something unpleasant in each of its syllables.

Owen grins and leans forward on his elbows, “I’ll tell you the basics! Then, when she actually gets here, the two of you can spend some time getting to know each other before the big day.”

“Oh God,” she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose, “don’t call it that.”

“So,” Owen pretends he hasn’t heard her and says carefully, “does that mean you’ll do it?”

It’s mad, she knows. Mad that Owen would ask this of her and even more mad that she’s considering it at all. 

“Fuck.” Jamie runs her fingers through her hair and grits her teeth, “Yeah. This is fucking mental, but I’ll do it.”

Owen claps his hands together and beams at her, “You will?”

“Well, not if you’re going to be so jovial about it. Don’t think I can stomach it.”

He shrugs amiably and reaches across the table to shake her shoulder, “Jamie, you know what this means, right?”

“Owen, I swear to Christ -“

“We’ll be cousins, you and me.”

“By marriage only, you twat. And if I were to agree to this, we would get divorced the minute her citizenship is finalized, or approved, or whatever the hell it is.”

“Sure, sure.” Owen says quickly, “Whatever you say.”

II.

“And why am I doing this again?” Jamie drains her glass and slides it to Owen for a refill, “I mean, seriously. Why? It’s mad, isn’t it?”

The restaurant is closed, and it’s just the two of them here alone as Owen pours their drinks from a bottle he’d snagged from behind the bar while reminding her that he can do that because he owns the place. The lights are dim, the mood music has been silenced, and Jamie is leaning on the polished wood of the bar looking utterly miserable.

He closes his hand around Jamie’s glass to hold it steady as he pours and looks up at her over the rims of his glasses, “Relationship shite, James. The bloke she was with was okay enough, but boring as fuck. She needs a fresh start and she needs to get the fuck away from...” He waves a hand dismissively, “from whoever she became whilst they were together.”

“And the fresh start needs to happen in Bly?”

“Well, where else?”

“I don’t know, mate. Surely there are other houses in...wherever the fuck she’s from. Can’t she move into one of them?”

Owen nods thoughtfully, “She could,” he agrees, “or she could move across the world to get married to my prickly, yet lovable best mate.”

A few drinks later Jamie is well on the way to being absolutely legless when she rests her head on her fist and asks again, “Christ, remind me why I’m agreeing to this again?”

“My name is Owen,” he quips, “not Christ.” But when he notices the scowl on Jamie’s face, he shrugs, skips the explanation, and goes with, “Because you love me,” he tosses her a tooth-rotting smile and adds, “and who knows? It could be fun.”

Jamie literally bites her tongue to hold herself back from pointing out to Owen that there’s no way it could possibly be fun when the only romantic company she appreciates is the occasional addition of woman in her bed to keep her company for the night, and then the sun comes up and the woman is gone and she’s alone again in her boring flat with her boring, quiet, potted flatmates and that’s how she likes it. Her life is lonely and mostly, she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

On the rare occasion that she desires some social interaction outside of that which is absolutely necessary, she calls Owen to go out for a drink, or meets Hannah for lunch, or if she’s feeling like engaging in some self-harm, she invites them out together so she can torture herself with their mutual obliviousness as they gaze adoringly at each other while everyone else pretends not to notice. 

“Yeah,” Jamie mutters under her breath, “it’s gonna be real fun.”

III.

The first thing Jamie notices about Danielle Clayton is the rigidity in her posture as she strides toward them with a rolling suitcase in tow. The second thing she notices is that she is beautiful, stunning, really and when she’s a bit closer, Jamie can see that there is a light of shy kindness in her eyes that makes Jamie smile in spite of herself. Jamie wonders if Owen can sense this because when she looks up at him, she finds him grinning down at her.

“The fuck are you smiling at?” She spits as she reaches into her shirt pocket for her cigarettes, then stops when she remembers that you’re not allowed to smoke in an airport, and even though that rule makes perfect sense, it pisses her off because how the fuck is she supposed to meet this woman without a cigarette dangling from her lips and her hands in her pockets and her carefully curated coolness that works best when something like this isn’t happening?

If Owen can sense this internal conflict, he says nothing and offers her a hearty wink, “Nothing! Nothing at all.” Then with a nudge to Jamie’s shoulder he yells, “Dani, over here!” 

Danielle seems to hear him because she speeds up a bit as Owen rushes toward her and when they meet, he encloses her in a tight hug, actually picking her up off of her feet and swaying lightly. 

When she has both feet back on the ground, she nervously smooths her hair back and holds out a shaky hand. Jamie stares at the hand for a moment before she accepts it, immediately finding that she enjoys the feel of Danielle’s smooth, uncalloused palm against her own, roughened by the nature of her work. Danielle is lovely in a lilac sweater, hoop earrings, and a wave of blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, and Jamie finds that she has to fight back a grin.

“Hi,” she says with a shy smile, “I’m Dani.” 

Her voice is sweet even though she sounds so American, and her cheeks are tinged pink and her eyes look tired, presumably from the long flight, but her smile is so warm that Jamie could almost forget that they’ve never actually met. Which is stupid, because they’ve never even been on the same continent before, so maybe she’s just sensing something familiar in Dani because she’s best friends with her oaf of a cousin who seems to be watching this unfold with great pleasure, or maybe there’s something else, something about Dani herself that something within Jamie recognizes.

Jamie meets Owens eye over Dani’s shoulder and sees that he’s watching the two of them with a smirk. She pauses to see if he’s going to introduce them, and when he doesn’t, she slips into her easy confidence and gives Dani’s hand a few friendly shakes and says, “It’s good to meet you, love. I’m Jamie.”

And it’s the strangest thing, really, because Jamie finds that she means it.

IV.

“So, Owen says that you work at the manor, too.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, smiling a little as she scans the room for him, “known him much longer than that, though.”

Owen had promised that he wouldn’t leave them alone together until things felt a bit more comfortable, and yet they’d only made it a few minutes into dinner at A Batter Place before he had wandered off to the kitchen.

“You don’t mind, do you ladies?” Owen had said as he was already rising to his feet, hurrying off before they could respond. 

So that is how Jamie finds herself alone with Dani in a crowded room, and she finds that Dani is as sweet as she is beautiful, and still, Jamie would rather be almost anywhere else. It’s got nothing to do with Dani, really, and everything to do with the intimacy of the whole thing. It makes Jamie feel cagey and caged in to be sitting with a woman who has expectations, and questions, who might be hurt by Jamie’s aloofness, who might ask an innocent question that forces Jamie to reveal more of herself than she cares to.

“Right,” Dani nods as she brings her glass to her lips, “you guys grew up in the same neighborhood, right?”

Here it is, and Jamie watches Dani’s face for a moment, noting the length of her eyelashes and the genuine curiosity. The combination of Dani’s gentle beauty and her gentle demeanor turns out to be just disarming enough that Jamie offers an honest answer, “Yeah, one of the foster homes I stayed in for a while was just down the street from his mum’s house.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t -“ Dani stammers, blushing furiously as she does.

Jamie meets Dani’s gaze, wanting Dani to see that she isn’t offended at all, because she isn’t really, she’s just waiting to see if the truth will send Dani running for the hills. When she’s confident that Dani isn’t about to flee, Jamie deftly moves the conversation away from herself. 

“I uh…” Jamie pauses to drink from her glass, “I’ve heard that you two have known each other for a while, as well.”

Dani blinks a few times and then she’s laughing so softly that it makes Jamie’s heart flutter.

“Yeah, let’s see…” Dani lifts her fingers as if counting, “Owen is three years older than me, so I guess we’ve known each other for about twenty-seven years now. Way back.” They laugh together this time and it feels warm.

They make a few more minutes of small talk about Dani’s flight, and Jamie’s morning, and how pleasant the weather is for a change. It’s all perfectly fine, but Jamie can’t stop scanning the room for Owen’s silhouette because she didn’t sign up to babysit Owen’s heterosexual American cousin except...well, she did. She’s agreed to marry this woman, this stranger of a woman who is looking at Jamie so sweetly when she says, “Hey, Jamie.”

Dani’s voice is impossibly soft as it draws Jamie out from her own thoughts. Jamie looks at her, and then she really looks at her and she is nearly overcome with the absurdity of it all. Jamie is sitting in Owen’s restaurant with a glass of wine in hand, wearing one of the few pairs of trousers she owns that aren’t littered with patches and mud stains, and she’s staring at the woman who will soon become her wife. Her wife. 

Jamie is going to have a wife even though she doesn’t do relationships and hasn’t been in one since she first realized that she could opt out of them, that she could create a life for herself and guard every inch of it against anyone who would intrude. 

She remembers the exhilaration she’d felt when she realized that she could break the cycle, that she didn’t have to repeat her parent’s loveless marriage, and it isn’t lost on her now that this is exactly what she’s doing. Only, instead of getting married to legitimize an unplanned pregnancy, Dani and Jamie are getting married to legitimize Dani’s presence in this country.

“Jamie,” Dani says, staring down at the table, steeling herself, “Thank you for this. We don’t even know each other and you’re already doing the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Dani shakes her head and says, “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

Jamie’s brow furrows at the praise, “I’m not looking for repayment, Dani. Owen is my friend, my best friend and he’s gotten me out of some jams that felt impossible at the time. I’d do anything for him.” 

The problem is, this explanation makes it sound as though she’s doing this entirely for Owen’s benefit, which is only partially true because Jamie knows how it feels to run away from something without a clear destination in mind and she knows how it feels to wake up every morning in a life that doesn’t fit properly. She also knows how it feels to find herself at the mercy of a stranger’s kindness.

Jamie fiddles with the padlock dangling from her necklace and asks, “Did Owen ever tell you how I ended up here? I’m from up north originally.”

Dani shakes her head and leans forward, watching Jamie closely in a way that makes her feel exposed. It feels like someone is really seeing into her in a way that no one else has for years, if anyone ever had at all. Dani looks right at her when she talks and she does it with such intensity that Jamie could almost forget that they’re not alone. The way Dani looks at her makes her want to be open and it feels so damn easy to just tell the truth, so she does. 

“Well,” Jamie says, “some of it isn’t great dinner conversation so we’ll have to save those bits for another time, but I got into some shit as a kid and I ended up serving some time at Her Majesty’s pleasure...”

Dani’s blue eyes widen only slightly, but it’s enough that Jamie can tell that Owen hasn’t shared her secrets. It makes her heart swell with affection for her friend and his loyalty, although she figures a staged whirlwind romance might be a bit easier if Dani had moved to a foreign country already knowing that she’s signing up to marry an ex-con.

“While I was inside, I decided that I wasn’t ever going back, so I finished what you yanks,” her nose wrinkles here, “would refer to as ‘high school’ and then I tried my hand at a few trades that didn’t hold my interest; until I found gardening. The first time I got down on my knees in a garden, it was like everything else made sense.” Jamie bites her lip and recalls the first time she’d felt dirt under her fingernails in the prison yard, the first time she’d eaten something that she’d grown from a seed, and the first time she ever stroked the flowers of a petal that her own hands had nurtured until it bloomed so beautifully.

“I got out and it was rough. No one would hire me, and I was…” she stops and clears her throat, “Anyway, I ran into Owen by chance, and he told me that he’d put in a good word for me up at the manor. They took a chance and they hired me, and so, you see, he saved my life.”

So Jamie figures that this is it, this is the moment when she will look up to find Dani looking at her like she’s...a criminal, and Dani will decide that life in Ohio or Arkansas or wherever she’s from isn’t so bad, and she’ll make an excuse to get the hell out of this restaurant and back into polite, educated, civilized company. And Jamie will be alone in this crowded room, feeling foolish for having even entertained the thought that maybe Dani could be different.

When Jamie looks up, Dani just exhales a deep breath that ends in one syllable, “Wow.”

Jamie blinks at her for a moment, takes a breath to ground herself, and says, “So if I can help someone else like me, someone else who maybe just needs a fresh start, it’s the only thing to do, right?”

When she looks closely, Jamie is surprised to find a film of tears in Dani’s eyes. Dani leans closer, opening her mouth to speak but stops when they hear Owen approaching, giving orders over his shoulder to an employee who trails behind him.

“Alright, ladies.” Owen rests a hand on each of their shoulders as a waiter sets their food down in front of them, “Sorry I got held up, where were we?”

Jamie is only slightly alarmed that suddenly, she feels disappointed to have him back.

V.

After dinner, they drop Dani off in front of her hotel, where she leaves them with a quick kiss on Owen’s cheek and a shy wave in Jamie’s general direction. 

The moment she’s out of earshot, Owen glanced at Jamie as he pulls the car away from the curb and says, “So?”

“So what?” Jamie grumbles as she sticks a cigarette between her lips. 

“What did you think of her?”

“Was this a blind date?”

“Well, no. But you two seemed to be hitting it off while I was away.”

“Yeah,” Jamie huffs, “what took you so long anyway? 

“The kid working the stove needed me, and then I saw that you two were talking so I just made myself scarce for a while longer.”

“Owen,” Jamie takes the cigarette out of her mouth without lighting it, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I’m not interested in an actual relationship with your heterosexual cousin.” She pauses for a moment and then adds, “Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Owen’s moustache twitches slightly, “Who said she’s straight?”

“Mate,” Jamie says, her patience beginning to wear thin, “are you trying to tell me something or are you just going to keep being cryptic and weird?”

“No, I’m not trying to tell you anything, Jim.” His eyes fixed on the road ahead, “I don’t know anything, I swear. It’s just this feeling I have. What do you lot call it?” Owen twirls the end of his moustache as he stares straight ahead, “Ahh, yes. I think it’s my gaydar.”

“Your cousin sets off your gaydar? That woman I just met?”

“Yep.”

Jamie cups her hands to light her cigarette and then punches his shoulder with a loose fist, “Owen, you need to get your head checked, ‘cause I’m pretty sure that the only thing queer about that girl is her weirdo of a cousin.”

VI.

Jamie Taylor is a creature of habit. She’s been an early riser since her prison days, up before the sun to get ready for the day and out into the garden as early as possible to make the most out of the English sun while it lasts.

So when her phone rings at 1 AM, still several hours before her alarm is set to go off, she’s confused at first and then immediately irritated. She gropes in the dark for her phone, finding it under her pillow, and manages to answer it without opening her eyes.

“What?” She snarls into the phone, debating whether life in prison would be worth murdering whoever has called her at this ungodly hour.

“Jamie?” 

She recognizes the voice immediately.

“Dani? Why the hell…”

“Jamie, I’m so sorry to call so late, or...I guess it’s actually early.”

Dani’s rushing to get the words out, and Jamie only catches fragments of them. Something about having locked herself out of the hotel somehow, Owen not answering his phone, and having nowhere else to go. Despite her annoyance, Jamie’s out of bed and stumbling around her room, pulling on her overalls before Dani has even finished her thrilling tale.

“...and if it hadn’t started raining, I wouldn’t have minded waiting until the staff unlocked the door in the morning.”

“Wait, Dani.” Jamie stops with one leg in and one leg out of her trousers, “Have you been out there since we dropped you off?” Her question is met with a long pause, “Dani?”

“Well, yes.” Jamie can imagine the pink flush spreading over Dani’s cheeks, can hear the note of anxiety in her voice, “At first, I figured someone would let me in right away and then I realized that they weren’t coming, but then Owen was asleep and…”

As Dani explains, Jamie is shoving her wallet and keys into her pockets, she hesitates before leaving the flat, and grabs the afghan she keeps folded over the back of the couch.

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way, alright?”

“Okay,” Dani says in a small voice, and then she adds, “Jamie, thank you.”

Jamie decides to take a risk and hopes that the joke lands, “It’s alright, can’t let my wife freeze to death, right? Don’t want to be a widow before I’ve even gotten my first grey hair.”

Dani lets out a small laugh that sounds like a mix between a cough and a sob, “I guess that would be awkward, huh?”

“Awkward if I let my wife freeze to death? More like I’d end up on one of those mad American crime shows you lot have. It’s always the husband, you know.”

VII.

The first sight of Dani huddled under the awning of the hotel sends a bolt of pity through Jamie. It’s pouring rain, and despite her best efforts to stay dry, Jamie can see that she’s drenched from head to toe. Jamie pulls up directly in front of her and honks once, then reaches for the heater and cranks the knob as high as it can safely go without making her old truck explode. Dani climbs in, shivering and sputtering with wet hair plastered around her face.

“Jesus, Dani,” Jamie says as she eases the afghan around Dani’s shoulders, “are you alright?”

“I’m…” and for a moment, Jamie thinks that Dani is going to lie, but Dani says, “no, I’m not. But I’m a bit better now.” She says this last part with a smile wide enough that Jamie is almost convinced that Dani believes what she’s saying.

The drive to Jamie’s flat is mostly quiet, the silence between them occasionally shattered by a loud clap of thunder or another of Dani’s whispered apologies. 

When she’s alone with Dani in her flat, she finds herself beginning to feel caged in again. It’s too much to be alone with this woman who moved here so that Jamie could fucking marry her, and now she’s in Jamie’s home and what the fuck is Jamie supposed to do with that? It’s too intimate, intimate in a way that sex has never been for her, because Dani is already embedding herself in Jamie’s life and Jamie only has herself to blame.

“Jamie?” Dani is standing in the middle of Jamie’s small sitting room fiddling with her clothes, “Can you help me get this thing off?” Dani gestures to her zippered jacket as she says this.

Jamie’s eyes widen, “Blimey.”

“Not...not like that.” Dani hurries to clarify, “It’s just…” and she holds up her hands to show her trembling fingers that are obviously too cold and stiff to operate the zipper.

“Oh, right.” Jamie clears her throat and steps over to Dani, reaching out slowly enough that either of them can still change their mind, but they don’t. And it shouldn’t be a big deal to Jamie because this is what she’s best at when it comes to women: undressing them, but it feels like a big deal when her fingers meet the cold metal of Dani’s zipper. Ignoring this, she places a gentle hand on Dani’s shoulder to brace herself and unzips the jacket with the other. Then, she helps Dani shrug the jacket off of her shoulders, and carries it over to the coat hooks.

“Dani,” she says as she hangs it up to dry, “what the hell were you doing out there in a flimsy cotton thing like this?”

Dani sounds exasperated, “Well, I didn’t think it would rain, and I definitely didn’t expect to be standing outside all night.”

“If you’re going to be an Englishwoman, you should know that you should always expect it to rain.” She chuckles a little and turns back to face Dani, “Do you have anything warm to change into?”

Dani hangs her head, “No. I’d already taken my suitcase inside before we went to dinner…”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Jamie says as she moves over to her dresser and rummages for some sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and some thick socks and hands all of it over to Dani. “Bathroom’s through there.” 

It’s too intimate. The thought of allowing this woman into her home, into her clothes, is overwhelming enough that she has to pinch the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache that is rolling in like a storm. While Dani is in the bathroom getting changed, Jamie decides to turn the kettle on and then steps back into her room to change into the pyjama bottoms she’d been wearing earlier. 

When she hears the bathroom door open and footsteps coming up behind her in the kitchen, Jamie calls over her shoulder, “Dani. How do you like your tea?”

With a nervous chuckle, Dani answers, “I like it iced. With lots of sugar and lemon slices.”

“Oh my God.” Jamie groans, “Dani, you know it isn’t too late for me to call off the engagement, right?”

“Hey, you asked.”

“I know, and I’m regretting it.” Jamie says with a laugh, “Hey, open the cabinet behind you and grab a few mugs for us?”

Dani grabs the mugs and sets them on the counter in front of Jamie, but doesn’t back away. Instead, she peers over Jamie’s shoulder and watches intently as Jamie goes through the motions of preparing two cups of tea. 

When they’re ready, Jamie hands one to Dani and leads her over to the couch, saying, “Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit of an arse earlier today. Or standoffish or something. I’m just, not used to…” 

Jamie pauses, doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Not used to pretty Americans? Not used to suddenly sharing her life with someone? Not used to worrying about anyone but herself?

“Marrying American strangers?” Dani chimes in, smiling brightly enough that Jamie can see that she isn’t offended.

“Exactly.”

“Jamie,” Dani sets her mug down on the coffee table, “I know that this whole thing is so weird, and it puts you in a weird position and ordinarily, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of it, but Owen made it seem…” Dani pauses to collect her thoughts, “From the way Owen talked about it, it didn’t even occur to me that you might be...uncomfortable.”

“Look, Dani -“ Jamie starts, but Dani cuts her off, “Jamie, if you don’t want to do this, I swear I won’t be mad. I’ll figure something else out or I’ll move back home. I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”Dani begins to chew on her lip as she says this, and Jamie can practically see the anxiety radiating off of her. 

She looks so small, so sad.

“I just…” Jamie sets her own mug down and turns to face Dani, “Dani, I don’t even do relationships, ever. Now I’m getting married. It’s just a lot.”

Dani nods seriously, “I know. I was engaged once, and it’s...big.”

“It is big, but I said I’d do it, and I meant what I said.” Jamie nods resolutely, “And anyway, it isn’t forever, right?”

“Right.” Dani agrees, and she visibly relaxes.

“If I may, what happened with the engagement? Why’d it end?”

“He…” Dani closes her eyes, “He died.”

“Your ex died? When Owen said it was a bad relationship situation, he didn’t mention that the bloke had actually died.”

Dani shrugs and bites down on her trembling bottom lip.

“So,” Jamie says, “why’d you do it, then?” 

Dani frowns and tilts her head, “Do what?”

“Well, it’s clear that you’re on the lam. And anyway, what did we say earlier?” Jamie sees Dani’s face fall and wonders if she’s gone too far with her attempt to lighten the mood, “It’s always the husband…”

Dani flinches and shifts uncomfortably, pulling the afghan tighter around her shoulders. “I was uh, I was there when it happened.”

Oh. 

“Oh?” Jamie says, wincing a little, “Fuck, I’m sorry…” And she’s not sure if she’s apologizing for the dead boyfriend or for the painful attempt at a joke. Maybe it’s both.

It’s so quiet in the flat that all Jamie can hear is the sound of rain crashing against the windows and Dani’s foot tapping against the wood floor. 

Dani sounds hoarse when she finally disturbs the silence, “We were parked on the side of the road, and it was raining hard, kind of like tonight. We were…” She stops and shudders, and there’s a faraway look in her eyes that makes Jamie’s mouth go dry, terrified of what she’ll say next.

“Anyway, he got out of the car, and as he opened the door…” She’s wiping tears away from her cheeks now, but they’re falling faster than she can wipe them.

“Hey, Dani,” Jamie hesitantly rests one hand on Dani’s knee to stop its bouncing. When she does this, Dani looks down at her knee and Jamie’s resting hand there as if she hadn’t realized she’d been doing it at all. “Dani, you don’t have to tell me anything else, not yet or not ever if you don’t want to.”

Dani sniffs and wipes at her eyes with her sleeve, which is technically Jamie’s sleeve, which Jamie is trying not to think about, and nods gratefully. 

“We can talk about other stuff,” Jamie offers, “I mean, we have to get to know each other, right? For the interviews.”

Dani visibly brightens at this, and reaches for her phone, “I actually made a list.”

“A list?”

“Yeah, of the types of questions they’ll probably ask us.”

Jamie nods and climbs to her feet, “Okay, hold on.” She rummages in a drawer to find a pad of paper and a few pens, and returns to her seat on the couch. She tears off a sheet of paper and passes it to Dani along with a pen.

“Alright,” Dani accepts the paper with a smile, “The first questions are easy, but still very important. Middle name?”

“Well, that is easy.” Jamie says with a shrug, “Haven’t got one. What about you?”

“Mine is Louise.”

“Danielle Louise Clayton.” Jamie says slowly, trying each of the syllables out on her tongue. Trying to not think about the other Louise.

Dani must see something flicker in Jamie’s eyes because she manages to look even more nervous when she says, “Pretty bad, huh?”

“No,” Jamie says quickly, honestly, “not at all. It suits you somehow.”

“Why? Because I seem like an old lady?”

“No.” Jamie says simply, recalling her brief foray into anthroponymy while in prison, trying to not recall the other Louise, “No, it’s because you seem like a warrior.”

Dani’s lips part and her jaw works, it’s subtle, but Jamie can see that she wants to say something. Instead, Dani just blushes and moves on to the next question. And it goes on just that way, for hours. At first, Dani asks all of the questions from the list she’d made, but eventually Jamie starts contributing questions of her own.

Jamie asks if Dani has any tattoos, and Dani says, “God, no. My ex would have…” but she never finishes the thought.

Dani asks what her parent’s names are, and there is no recognition in her face when Jamie’s voice trembles as she says, “My mum was called Louise. Is called Louise, I reckon…”

Jamie asks silly questions, trying to lighten the mood, questions that she knows won’t be part of the interview process like, “What’s your favorite breakfast cereal?” and “What’s up with you lot and your large portion sizes?”

They laugh so hard that they cry when Jamie regales Dani with tales from her younger, less law-abiding years and Dani overflows with sympathy when Jamie walks her through her own gnarled family tree: “Mum took off when I was young, dad nearly worked himself to death, I raised Mikey, Denny split...”

When it’s nearly 4 AM, Jamie sets her pen down and looks at Dani, “I’ve got work in a few hours, so I’m going to have to turn in.”

Dani blanches, “Oh my God,” and she sputters, “Jamie, I’m - you should have said...I wouldn’t have,” and then she stops, swallows, and groans, “God I’m sorry.”

Jamie waits for a moment, and then decides to spare them both and intervene, “Dani,” she hesitates and then sets one cautious hand on Dani’s tense shoulder, “it’s alright. If I’d minded, I wouldn’t have stayed up, okay?”

Dani bites her bottom lip, blue eyes still downcast, “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just. I’m going to…” 

She seems so small, so sad, so unsure.

“You’ll crash here for a few hours, and then I’ll drop you off at your hotel or with Owen, whatever you prefer.” Jamie stands and reaches into her small coat closet, “Here,” she holds a lone pillow out to Dani who accepts it eagerly. “Goodnight.”

VIII.

The shapes on Jamie’s ceiling shift as the sun begins a lazy ascent on the other side of her curtains. It’s quiet in her room, save for her own breathing, and because they are separated by a door, she cannot hear Dani breathing on her couch. Can’t tell if it’s the quick panicky breaths Jamie knows she’s prone to when she’s feeling anxious, or the slow, lazy breaths of a deep sleep. 

Jamie hopes that it’s the latter.

Even though she can’t hear her, even as she strains to listen, she can feel her presence. Can feel that there is someone in her home, wearing her clothes, expecting something from Jamie that Jamie isn’t sure she can give. If Dani just needs her signature on a marriage license, that’s one thing, that’s easy, that’s something Jamie can give. But if Dani wants, or expects something more...if Dani expects that she can have Jamie in any other way beyond that signature on a piece of paper, well, then...

IX.

Alone on Jamie’s couch, Dani struggles to control her breathing as she cries quietly, this is an art she has perfected through years of lying awake next to the sleeping body of a man who had grown up to be so unlike the little boy she’d befriended when they were children. Even after they grew up, during the light of day, with clothes on, there were times when Eddie could almost be mistaken for that little boy. But then at night, in their bed, he would reach for her, and it never occurred to her that she could say “no”. So, she just wouldn’t say anything at all, save for a few half-hearted moans, followed by a loud cry in the shower and then a quiet cry next to Edmund’s sleeping body.

Now she cries alone on a stranger’s couch in a foreign country because she misses that boy, because she remembers the look in his eyes when he asked why she was breaking his heart. And even though she tries not to, she remembers the look in his eyes as he lay dying in the street. She’d held one of his blood slicked hands in her own, and tried to comfort him, hoping he wasn’t thinking of how she’d just broken his heart, and now that is what she sees every night when she goes to bed alone.


	2. She Goes With Me to a Blossom World (We Find)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The annoying spacing situation should be fixed now! Fuck Google Docs forever! 
> 
> If you're reading this and you didn't see the formatting before I fixed it, count yourself lucky.

I.

The earth is cool and moist in Jamie’s hands, it is under her nails, and it is quiet in the gardens. 

She’s on her hands and knees in overalls with her shirt sleeves rolled up, the air is cool on her bare arms and it’s peaceful here, it’s quiet, and there is a woman in her flat across town, sitting on her couch wearing her clothes. A woman she doesn’t know. A woman she’s supposed to _marry_. Jamie is trying to forget about that part, just for a little while, just long enough that she can lose herself in the meditative nature of this work.

_Dig, seed, cover, repeat._

She’d had to leave Dani in her flat with a spare key so that she would be able to lock the door when Owen came to pick her up, and even though she’s supposed to return the key to Jamie the next time they see each other, it’s the principle of the thing. 

_Dig, seed, cover, repeat._

Jamie knows that for the sake of appearances Dani will have to have a key eventually, but that can wait. For now, it’s quiet and she’s alone and -

“Fuck.” Jamie mutters as she sits back on her heels, frowning down at what _should_ be a neat row of red camellia, but because she’d been distracted and careless, it isn’t working out at all like she’d intended to. At her best guess, she figures that she’s just created an extra hour of work for herself to be spent undoing the damage she’s done.

The saving grace is that at least she’s alone for now, in one of the gardens that has been so precisely curated by her own hands, and no one is there to look at her, or need anything from her that she can’t provide with just her hands and the sweat of her brow. When she looks down at her handiwork again, she sees that maybe it isn’t turning out as bad as she’d thought. Maybe it’ll be salvagable.

 _Dig, seed, cover_ —

“Jamie!” 

Jamie doesn’t turn around right away. She just clenches and then unclenches her jaw before looking up to find Flora standing just a few feet away, panting and flushed, “Jamie, you’ve _got_ to come, please. Will you?”

Jamie is already standing and brushing dirt off of her hands as she asks Flora, “Why? What’s going on?”

“Owen is here to visit, _and_ he brought someone with him and she’s _so_ pretty, and Owen promised to make some of those really good toasties for lunch just like he used to when he worked here every day, _and_ he’s going to make them with that really lovely cheese from his restaurant. And Mrs. Grose told me to ask you if we can pick some tomatoes because Owen’s going to put them in the sandwiches and it’s going to be,” Flora pauses to catch her breath and slips a small hand into one of Jamie’s, “perfectly splendid.” 

“Is that so?” Jamie smiles in spite of herself, charmed as ever by Flora’s youthful exuberance. Jamie can’t remember a time in her own life when she was so innocent, so unencumbered, so...enthused. If only she could stay this way forever.

“Yes, I quite think so.” Flora squeezes Jamie’s hand as she says this, “The lady with Owen really is _so_ pretty, Jamie. She has lovely hair and I bet it would look _wonderful_ with plaits. Do you think she’ll let me plait it?”

“Well, I’m sure I haven’t a clue.” Jamie shrugs, and then adds, “Flora, what was her name? Owen’s friend.” 

“Oh,” Flora chirps, excited to know the answer, “her name is Ms. Clayton, and she’s -“

“Let me guess,” Jamie cuts in, “she’s perfectly splendid?”

“Yes!” 

Dani is here, at her job, after having spent the night in her flat, and they’re supposed to be getting married. All of this, Jamie thinks wryly, and she isn’t even shagging her.

II.

Jamie and Flora walk into the kitchen with arms and pockets laden with tomatoes which they dump into the sink upon Hannah’s instruction. 

The kitchen is bright and airy, and Owen is standing at the stove with his sleeves rolled up, laughing at something Hannah’s saying

to him. Although Owen no longer works at the manor unless he is catering an event, he still makes an excuse to stop by on a weekly basis. Jamie hasn’t confronted him about it, but she supposes that he comes by so often to see a certain housekeeper, a certain housekeeper who is laughing next to him as she inspects the tomatoes Jamie and Flora have brought inside.

It strikes Jamie that this could be any other pleasant afternoon at Bly Manor, save for the fact that Dani Clayton is also here in the kitchen looking equal parts lovely and terrified, wearing a jean jacket over a sundress. Jamie smiles as she picks through the tomatoes, wondering if Dani brought the jacket along because of the unexpected downpour the previous evening.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie sees Flora run over to Dani and fling her arms around Dani’s waist as if she’s known her all her life. 

“Ms. Clayton,” Flora pants, “your hair is so pretty, I bet it would be even lovelier with plaits. _Can_ I plait it, Ms. Clayton? Please.”

Dani rests a hand on Flora’s little shoulder, “Well, of course you can,” she says with a warm smile, “how ‘bout we do it after we eat some lunch?” 

Flora grins brightly, and then at Hannah’s request, she runs off to find her brother.

When Flora is gone, Dani turns to her and offers a shy smile, “Hi, Jamie,” she says, “this place is really lovely.”

Jamie shoves her hands into her pockets and leans against an adjacent counter, “Hello, Poppins.”

Dani’s eyes widen and her cheeks go pink, “Poppins?”

“Mhm,” Jamie hums and doesn’t elaborate, “Poppins, will you bring that salt over here?” 

Dani follows Jamie’s stare to the neat row of jars on the counter, each of them labeled in Owen’s careful hand. Dani runs a finger along the row until she reaches the one that says “SALT”.

Jamie pulls out her pocket knife and slices a tomato in half, beckoning for Dani to come closer. “Alright,” Jamie says, holding out half of the tomato to Dani and keeping half for herself, “sprinkle just a pinch over your tomato, and then take a bite.” 

Dani looks skeptical, but she does what Jamie says, eyes widening as she bites down, “Damn,” she says, “that’s not bad.” Jamie thinks that this might be the first time she’s heard Dani curse, and she thinks she likes it.

“Not bad?” Jamie scoffs as she reaches for the salt, “That’s the best tomato you’ve ever eaten in your life.”

“Can’t say that I’ve ever eaten half of a tomato by itself.”

“Well, it’s not by itself, is it?” Jamie nudges Dani’s shoulder with one of her own, “It’s got mine here to keep it company.”

“Oh, Jamie,” she groans, “that was awful, and _I’m_ related to Owen.” 

“I suppose he’s a bad influence,” Jamie shrugs, “so the thing with the salt is that it draws out the moisture in the tomato and that makes them taste even better somehow.” Jamie takes a bite of her own tomato and jokes, “Not that they need any help. I grew them after all.”

“Did you really?” Dani says, impressed.

“Yep, I grow a lot of what we eat in the green house.”

Dani's eyes widen, clearly impressed, “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“I don’t think it counts as work if you enjoy it, yeah?”

“I suppose that could be true, although, as much as I loved my teaching job back in the states, it definitely felt like work.”

“I suppose everything has its ups and downs.”

Dani nods and takes another bite of her tomato, “Things are looking up now, though.” 

“Yeah,” Jamie says, “they really are.”

III.

  
  


“Jamie?” Owen calls to her from across the kitchen where he is rinsing out the skillet he’d prepared lunch in.

Jamie excuses herself from the table and moves to stand next to him, “What’s up, mate?”

“Can I talk to you?” He glances over to where Dani and Hannah sit with the kids, “Outside, maybe?”

“Sure,” Jamie shrugs and reaches into her pockets for her cigarettes, “lead the way.”

She follows Owen out onto the grounds, to a little orchard of fruit trees she’s been carefully nurturing for years. They’d been in rough shape when she’d first come to Bly, but now they’re lively and produce more fruit than they can eat, which Owen uses as a convenient excuse to come visit with Hannah, under the guise of picking up some fruit for his restaurant.

Owen stops walking when they reach a shaded spot and Jamie leans against a lemon tree, lights a cigarette, on the exhale, she says “So, what’s up?”

Owen twists the end of his moustache and won’t quite meet her eye. Jamie’s pretty sure that the last time she saw him look this nervous was when he was asking her to marry his cousin, so she braces herself for the worst.

“What is it?” Jamie asks again.

“Dani needs a job.”

“Right,” Jamie says, “you told me she’s going to work at the restaurant.”

“I _was_ going to have her work at the restaurant,” he hesitates and runs his fingers through his hair, “but, well, she was a teacher back in the states and she’d like to start teaching here eventually.”

Jamie’s eyes narrow as all of the things Owen _isn’t_ saying begin to take shape.

“I brought here to show her around, of course, but the main goal was to see how she got on with the kids.”

“Owen.”

“I know, Jamie. I do. But she needs a job and they need a nanny, and having references here would help her when she starts applying for teaching jobs.” He tips his head toward the house as he says this, and she knows he’s right, but it doesn’t make her any less annoyed about the whole thing.

“For fuck’s _sake_ , Owen. I agreed to marry the woman as a favour to you, but I didn’t agree to invite her into every aspect of my life.” Jamie drops her cigarette, stomps it out, and places the butt in her pocket. “Fuck.”

“To be fair,” Owen smiles, “you weren’t the one to invite her here.”

“Owen.”

The smile slides right off of his face and he says, “Look, if you really don’t want her to work here, just say the word and I’ll tell her that I’ve changed my mind and that I really do need her at the restaurant.”

Jamie crosses her arms and looks away, biting her lip. She knows he’s right, knows that this would be the best arrangement for everyone. She knows that she shouldn’t be selfish. She knows that it would be easier on Hannah, and so she says, “Fine.” she exhales and reaches for another cigarette, “Fine, but Owen, I swear to God…”

“I know, Jim.” He says and rests a palm on her shoulder, “I really do appreciate this. Have I told you?”

“Yeah,” she huffs, “but not _nearly_ enough.”

IV.

Jamie doesn’t hear anything else about Dani coming to work at the manor for the remainder of the week and by the weekend rolls around, she’d almost forgotten about it entirely.

She spends all day Saturday cleaning her flat, tends to her jungle of houseplants and then pores over every page of the business plan she’s been working on for months. When she’s done with that, she goes for a jog, showers, and goes back to the first page of the business plan to look over it again, slower this time, needing it to be perfect.

On Sunday afternoon, she receives a text from Owen, warning her that Dani’s first day at the manor will be on Monday, which is tomorrow, and there’s that caged in feeling settling around her again and it’s so much that Jamie doesn’t even respond to him. 

She just sets the phone down, stares at it for a few moments, and then picks it up again. This time she scrolls through her phone's entire contact list, bypassing the names of several suitable women until she reaches the bottom. Then, she scrolls back up to the top and makes her way down again. This time, her eyes settle on one.

Not one to make rash decisions, Jamie stares at Viola’s name for a few moments. Jamie’s favorite thing about her infrequent hook ups with Viola is the way that Viola also isn’t looking for anything serious, never asks to stay over, and happily leaves Jamie’s flat way before Jamie has to feign tiredness and politely invite her to leave. 

When her thumb hovers over Viola’s name, it’s almost like the decision makes itself and just takes Jamie along for the ride.

“Hey, Jamie,” a breathy voice comes through the phone, “how are you, love?”

“I’m good, Vi.” 

Another thing she likes about Viola is that she never needs to beat around the bush.

“So, it’s been a while.”

Viola chuckles softly and then says, “Your place or mine?”

Jamie runs her fingers through her hair for a moment and thinks it over. Then she remembers Dani being here in her flat, on her couch, in her clothes, and decides that she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Yours?” she says hopefully, “I’ll bring wine.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in about an hour?”

V.

It’s so _easy_ to be with Viola, so easy to lose herself in this familiar song and dance. It could be this way forever, Jamie thinks as she brings one hand up to cup the back of Viola’s neck, her other hand still firmly gripping the bottle of wine she’d brought. She could spend the rest of her life living exactly the way she does now with a string of women who will always answer when she calls. Women who don’t want anything more than just her attention for an evening. It would be so easy for it to stay this way.

“Come here.” Viola says, pulling Jamie in closer and leaning down to press their lips together, and all while Viola licks into her mouth and leads her to the bedroom and pulls her shirt over her head, Jamie just keeps thinking about how wonderfully uncomplicated this is; how very freeing it is to only be asked for the things she wants to give.

Later, when they’re sitting up in Viola’s bed sharing a cigarette, Viola leans over to run a finger over Jamie’s neck and then presses a kiss there. “Sorry,” she murmurs against Jamie’s skin, “I got a little carried away, I think.”

“Oh yeah?” Jamie chuckles, “Left me a souvenir?” 

“Yeah, do you mind?”

“No,” Jamie says truthfully, because she doesn’t. She knows that Viola isn’t the type of woman to do a thing like that on purpose. Viola isn’t the type to intentionally mark her territory because she doesn’t feel that she _owns_ Jamie. Wouldn’t want to possess her even if she could.

Jamie glances at the clock on the wall, “Shit,” she says, climbing out of bed and beginning to grope around for her clothes, “it’s getting late. He’ll be back soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Viola says, stubbing out the cigarette, “but you know he doesn’t care.” She laughs quietly, “You could even stick around for dinner. We’re having roast.”

“Even still,” Jamie says as she steps into her trousers, “I’m not in the mood to make small talk with your husband when you’ve just been sitting on my face.”

“Alright then, suit yourself.” Viola shrugs and tilts her face so that Jamie can lean down to kiss her one more time before she goes. When she pulls away, she feels fingers close around her wrist, “Hey, Jamie. You alright? You seemed different tonight.”

Jamie slips out of Viola’s grasp and smirks, “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

“No,” and she sits up, allowing the blankets to fall away and expose her bare chest, “I’m not complaining now, either. Just making sure you’re alright.”

Jamie sighs and says, “It’s kind of complicated, Vi.”

Viola raises her eyebrows, “I’m no stranger to complicated, love. We’re friends, right? You can talk to me.” That’s yet another thing she loves about Viola: she never asks for Jamie’s secrets for the sole purpose of _having_ them, she just tries to do the right thing for Jamie as it fits within the parameters of their dynamic.

“Shit,” Jamie says and sinks down onto the bed, “it’s Owen…” she pauses to decide which version of the truth she should offer. “He’s trying to set me up with a cousin of his. An _American_ who just moved here.”

“Oh,” Viola shrugs, “how’s this any different from any other girl he and Hannah try to set you up with? You always turn them down.”

There’s really no way to tell her that Dani is different because Jamie has no choice, because of the complicated web she’s woven for herself. She can’t say that she’s trapped in it and that she can all but hear a lock clicking into place. So she shrugs and says, “She…” Jamie bites her lip, “she just _is._ ” 

“Oh,” Viola says, as something like comprehension dawns over her face, “you like her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Jamie Taylor, you _like_ this girl.” Viola grins and moves closer so that she can wrap her arms around Jamie’s neck, “What’s she look like? Is she your type?”

“She’s...blonde and _American_.”

“You actually like her.” Viola’s breath is warm against Jamie’s neck and it makes her shiver. “Wow, she must be special.”

“I haven’t known her long enough to know, only a few days really. Anyway, Owen introduced us and she just got hired at the manor.”

Viola presses a quick succession of kisses against Jamie’s neck and shoulder, “Right, and so you needed to fuck someone else to prove to yourself that you don’t like her?”

Jamie scowls, “I’m going now.”

“Alright, well, it was good as always so you know you can always give me a call if you find that you have something else to prove.”

“Right,” Jamie says as she pats each of her pockets searching for her keys, “might take you up on that.”

VI.

The earth is cool and moist in Jamie’s hands, under her nails, and it’s quiet in the gardens at Bly Manor.nIt’s still early, but it’s warm enough that she was able to leave her jacket in the green house and keep her arms feeling free and unrestricted as she works. 

Being outside in the gardens now, after having spent an evening with Viola has done her some good, Jamie supposes. She can’t exactly escape the cage she’s found herself in, but she can certainly _pretend_ , she can imagine her old life and how free she was just a month ago. Just one month ago, her life had been so wonderfully uncomplicated and she had taken it for granted, hadn’t appreciated it for what it was.

“Jamie?”

Jamie freezes and closes her eyes, then she turns and looks over her shoulder to find Dani standing behind her with two mugs in her hands. She’d been expecting this all morning, knew it was inevitable that their paths would cross, but she’d hoped wildly...

“Poppins,” she says, and tries to smile, “fancy meeting you here.”

“It’s...it’s my first day,” Dani offers, and somehow, she’s already blushing when she holds one mug out to Jamie, “so, I thought I’d come way ‘hello’ and maybe bring you some tea.”

Jamie sighs and brushes her hands on her jeans as she moves closer to Dani, “Cheers.” She smiles as she accepts one of the mugs, and brings it to her lips. 

Over the rim of her mug she meets Dani’s eyes and they are so blue that it makes her head swim, and then the tea reaches her lips and it’s maybe one of the worst things she’s ever tasted.

The tea is so awful, in fact, that she can’t even bring herself to pretend that it’s not. “Jesus, Dani,” Jamie grimaces and slits the tea back into the mug, “I thought you said this was tea.”

Dani winces, “I’m not very good at making tea.”

“My God,” Jamie says, wiping her mouth with the back of her free hand, “you know that I can’t marry you if you poison me, right?”

“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she says, offering a small smile, “I was just hoping that maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Yeah. Maybe all of this will be easier if we just...start over.”

Jamie watches Dani for a moment and deadpans, “Are you saying this just so we can pretend that this assassination attempt never happened?”

“No,” Dani blushes, “no. It’s just that maybe if we pretend that we met in a normal way…”

It would also look more legitimate if immigration were to actually interview the people they know, is what Jamie thinks, but what she says is, “Instead of what is essentially an arranged marriage?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Alright then,” Jamie says and she holds out a hand for Dani to shake, adding “as long as you don’t go falling in love with me.” 

Dani somehow turns an even deeper shade of red, sputters, “No, I wouldn’t. I mean, I won’t. I can’t because…”

“I know, Dani. I’m just messing with you.” Jamie looks pointedly at her own hand, still suspended in mid-air, waiting for Dani’s.

This time, Dani does take her hand, “I’m Dani. I just moved to Bly, it’s my first day.”

“It’s good to meet you, Dani.” Jamie says as she gives her hand a shake, “My name’s Jamie. I’ve worked here for about four years, I’m the groundskeeper.”

“So you did all of this?” Dani says and lets go of Jamie’s hand to gesture to the trees, flowers, and shrubs all around them, “All of this is you?”

“Sure,” Jamie nods, “some of the trees are as old as the house, but I keep them going. Most of the shrubs and flowers and younger trees you see were all me.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like a tour?”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose.”

“It’s no imposition.” Jamie shrugs, “Was just about to take a break, anyway.”

“Okay, then.” Dani beams so widely that it makes Jamie’s chest ache. She looks so excited, so _eager_ to have a friend and Jamie can’t help but to be a little charmed by it. She’s probably lonely, Jamie supposes, and while she understands the concept of desiring the company of others, she generally prefers her own company.

Just as Jamie had suspected, Dani is a great listener. She pays close attention to every plant and every detail Jamie points out, and then asks the appropriate questions, and she isn’t just trying to be polite, Jamie can tell. She can always tell.

“Which one is your favorite? Dani asks when they’re making their way back to the front entrance of the manor.

Jamie doesn’t know why it feels too intimate to answer, but it does, so she just shrugs and mumbles something about appreciating all of them. It’s true that she appreciates all of them, but well, you wouldn’t tell a stranger which of your children you love most, would you?

VII.

That night as she scribbles in the margins of one of the books she’d borrowed from Owen about starting a small business, Jamie thinks about the way Dani had flushed and stammered when she made the joke about not falling in love. It’s irritating that she’s thinking of her even when she’s alone, even when she doesn’t have to, even when she should be focusing on something else.

Jamie shakes her head to clear it and manages to read a few more pages about how to best calculate the financial projections for a budding business and how to lay it out in a business plan, and then there _was_ that time when she’d been sitting outside Dani’s hotel with Owen and he’d said that he wasn’t so sure that Dani is straight. She’d found it interesting at the time, but hadn’t given it much thought beyond that. Now she wonders and curses herself for wondering.

She groans, closes the book, and tries his cell phone first, and when he doesn’t answer, she calls the restaurant. He answers on the first ring, “A Batter Place, Owen speaking.”

“Owen?”

“Hey James,” Owens says, sounding surprised to hear her voice, “everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine.” Jamie says, “Look mate, when we dropped Dani off at her hotel the other night you told me that you’re not so sure that she’s straight. Why did you say that?”

She can hear him sigh, “I really don’t have an answer for you, Jamie. Nothing definitive, anyway.”

“Okay, so then it’s something tentative? Tell me.”

“Alright.” Owen sighs again, “Well, it isn’t so much that she’s given me a reason to believe that she likes women. It’s just that I’ve never seen any proof that she likes men.”

“What about the part where she had a fiancé? By the way, thanks for telling me that the bloke is dead.”

He sounds defensive now, “Look, that’s _her_ story to tell. Same way that I didn’t tell her any of your secrets, I’m not going to betray hers, either.”

“Fine.” Jamie says, “Fair enough.”

“Anyway, with Eddie it seemed more like things just fell into place after they’d been friends for so long. But she never seemed to be quite herself around him once they started dating. She always looked uncomfortable or unsure.”

“Maybe she just wasn’t into that one bloke.”

“Maybe so. Like I said, it’s just a feeling. Nothing concrete. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just came to mind.”

“Okay, well then, could I ask for a favour?”

“Another one?”

“Could you maybe invite her to hang out with her sometime soon? I’m so busy with the restaurant and she doesn’t know anyone else yet. She could use a friend.”

Jamie pauses to consider this, thinks of Dani’s wide smile when Jamie had offered to take her on a tour of the grounds; and figures it’s harmless, “Yeah, alright. Maybe I’ll invite her to the pub downstairs.” It would be nice to make Dani smile that way again.

“She’d like that.”

So would I, is what Jamie thinks but doesn’t say.

“One more thing, Jamie.”

“What _now_?”

“I think I saw a hickey on your neck the last time I saw you.”

“So?” Jamie says.

“Well.” Owen sounds nervous again, which means that she probably isn’t going to like what he’s about to say, and truthfully, with the way the last several weeks have gone, she’s _really_ beginning to hate when he sounds nervous.

“Well, what?” 

“It’s just, I suppose that sort of thing is alright for now. But you know that when you and Dani get together it would look bad if immigration found out that you’re sleeping around.”

“I’m not sleeping _around_ ,” she snaps, “it’s not as if I don’t _know_ the people I sleep with.”

“Sure, but if immigration finds out that you sleep with people who aren’t your wife…”

“On for fuck’s _sake_ ,” she hisses, “anything else?”

“Now that you mention it -“ he begins.

“Bye, Owen.” 

VIII.

“So, Poppins,” Jamie says as she leans in across the table, “why Bly? Why come to England at all?”

It’s too warm in the pub, and she can see a light sheen of sweat on Dani’s forehead, the edges of her hairline are slightly curled from the moisture, and her cheeks are flushed. She’s lovely, Jamie thinks, bloody lovely.

Dani smiles and sips her beer, “Well, I wanted to get as far away from Iowa as possible, so I started thinking about everyone I knew who lived somewhere else, especially the ones in places I’d never visited before.”

Jamie nods, “That still doesn’t explain why you chose _Bly_ of all places.”

“I told Owen that I wanted to leave Iowa, and that I was open to leaving America altogether if I could get my teaching certifications worked out. So he told me to come here. He said that Bly is a nice place with some good people.”

“And?” Jamie wraps her hand around her glass, enjoys the cool condensation against her palm, “are there good people here?”

Dani flushes, but she doesn’t look away when she says, “I think so. I think that there are some amazing people here.”

Jamie clears her throat and takes a long pull on her beer. “So, uh...I was doing some research.”

“On what?”

“This immigration shite. So apparently, you lot are allowed to stay in England for up to six months without a visa, but it can take a couple of months to get a fiancé visa approved. So just to be safe, I was thinking three months?”

Dani pales, “Three months until we…”

“Tie the knot, yeah.” Jamie says, matter of fact. No point beating around the bush. Viola would be proud.

“Wow,” Dani breathes, “and you’re sure…”

Jamie shrugs, “I said I’d do it, right?” Jamie winces at her own choice of words and hurries to add, “It’s not a big deal. I’ve just got to sign a piece of paper and kiss a pretty girl.”

Dani flushes, but she doesn’t look away, “You think I’m pretty?”

“I have eyes, Poppins.” Jamie laughs and says, “Yep. That’ll be the easy part, I reckon.”

“Oh yeah? If it’s so easy, why haven’t you done it yet?”

“Why haven’t I kissed you?”Jamie knows what Dani means, but she teases her anyway, “Poppins, you flirt.”

“No!” Dani sputters, “No, I mean, why haven’t you gotten married before?”

“Never had a reason to,” she says honestly, “and I don’t do relationships.”

“Marriage isn’t a relationship?”

“Not _that_ kind. Not with us.” Jamie gestures between the two of them, “Maybe on paper, but not really.”

“Why don’t you do relationships?”

Jamie stares down into her beer, watching the bubbles fizz and float, “Sometimes, if you let her, a woman can get to thinking that she owns you.” Jamie pauses to think, choosing her words carefully, “She might think that she can change you. That you _belong_ to her. Some people think that’s what love is. So,” she finishes with a dismissive wave, “I decided a long time ago to just avoid the whole business.”

“People do, don’t they?” Dani murmurs.

Jamie looks up, and finds a faraway look in Dani’s eyes, as if she’s gone somewhere else entirely and left Jamie alone in this crowded pub. Somewhere Jamie couldn’t follow if she tried.

“Do what, Poppins?”

“Mix up love and ownership.” Now Dani looks as though she’s talking to someone else entirely, a ghost, “but I don’t see how that’s possible. They’re opposites, really.”

Intrigued, Jamie leans in closer, wanting to catch every word, “How do you mean?” she breathes.

“When you truly love something, you would never want to cage it up, or lock it away, or try to...make it into something else.”

And when their eyes meet, Jamie finds that she’s seeing something in Dani that she’d managed to miss entirely.

IX.

Jamie also finds, after just a few days, that having Dani at the manor really isn’t so bad. They mostly stay out of each other’s way with Jamie out in the garden and Dani inside with the children, and their paths usually only cross during mealtimes or in passing. 

Which is for the best, really, because Jamie can’t stop thinking of the look on Dani’s face when they’d talked about the difference between love and ownership, and in spite of herself, she wants to know _why_. She wants to know about the ghost Dani seemed to be talking to, the one she seems so haunted by. She wants to know who had tried to put Dani in a cage and she wants to hear Dani tell her about her escape.

One afternoon, when Jamie is tending to the flower beds near the entrance of the manor, Dani comes up behind her and says, “Hey, Jamie?”

Jamie startles so badly that she nearly drops the bag of soil she’s working with and presses a hand over her heart, “Jesus _Christ_ , Dani. Are you tryin’ to kill me?”

“Oh God,” Dani says, clapping a hand to her mouth, “I’m sorry!” 

Then Jamie hears it, and it’s bright and warm and _annoying_ . “Poppins,” her eyes narrow as she searches Dani’s face, “are you _laughing_?”

“No,” Dani giggles, “of course I’m not.”

“You are,” Jamie sets the bag down and smiles in spite of herself, savouring Dani’s laughter, “you nearly gave me a heart attack and you’re amused.”

Dani bites the inside of her cheek and dodges the subject entirely, her eyes settling on Jamie’s bare forearm, on the tattoo that starts at her wrist and winds its way up to her shoulder, “I didn’t know that you have a tattoo,” she breathes, “what is it?”

Jamie chuckles, “I’ve got more than one, but this one,” she says and rolls her sleeve up further, “this is one of my favorite flowers. I took a bunch of reference photos to the artist and let her come up with her own design.”

“Wow,” Dani steps closer and reaches out with one trembling hand, “what is it?” 

“These,” Jamie twists her arm to better showcase it for her, “are moonflowers. They’re bloody hard to grow in England and the thing is, the flowers bloom at night and only once each. It’s a lot of work to get them to bloom, but it’s worth it.”

“Is it okay if I…?” Dani says as her fingertips inch closer to Jamie’s arm. Jamie nods once and almost instantly feels the light touch of Dani’s fingers as they move along her arm, tracing the vines and the buds and the delicate shading of the petals. If Dani can feel the gooseflesh blooming on Jamie’s skin, she mercifully doesn’t acknowledge it. She just traces the ink and admires the tattoo with something like reverence. 

When her fingertips reach Jamie’s bicep, Dani lets go and backs away a little. “Thank you.” She murmurs, shy again.

“No problem, Poppins.” Jamie says with a shrug. She tries to sounds casual, hopes she does, and rolls down her sleeves to cover her arms. 

“Now,” Jamie asks, “did you come out here to scare the hell out of me, or was there something else?”

“Oh,” Dani says, eyes widening, “right. Well, the kids and I are working on photosynthesis in our studies, and I was wondering if you would mind taking us on a little tour through some of the gardens that they don’t visit as often. It might help to show them some real examples of what we’re learning. It keeps them engaged.”

“Sure,” Jamie shrugs, “tell me when you need me and I’ll see what we can do for the wee gremlins.”

Dani thanks her and smiles at her with something that Jamie could almost mistake for affection, and if it _is_ affection, Jamie can’t remember the last time anyone has looked at her that way. At least not the way Dani is looking at her, like maybe she’s afraid that Jamie could break if she stares too hard, or like maybe she thinks that the delicate parts of Jamie might be worth the effort of being careful. 

More gooseflesh surfaces under the sleeves of Jamie’s shirt and she crosses her arms, folding them close to her body as if trying to hold in the thin sliver of hope that threatens to escape. Dani is blissfully unaware, seems to have no clue at all that she’s on the verge of making Jamie feel something that she wasn’t sure she _could_ feel. 

Dani just touches her forearm again and says, “You’re really good with them, you know?”

“Who, me?” Jamie says, glancing around as if Dani could have possibly been speaking to anyone else. And thank _God_ for granting her an opportunity to make light of the entire interaction, to bury whatever might be blooming.

“Yeah, you.” Dani grins, “They adore you. They think you’re the coolest.”

“Hmm, reckon I like them alright, too. Don’t tell them that, though. Would be terrible for my image.”

“Hate to break it to you, tough guy, but we all know you’re a softie deep down.”

Jamie rolls her eyes, “ _Way_ deep down.” she jokes, and then adds, “Now get out of here before I have to do something tough to prove you wrong.”

X.

It’s a warm night a few weeks after Dani started at Bly and Owen had insisted that they throw her a small welcome gathering. Small meaning that it’s just the four of them drinking beer around the fire after the kids are sent off to bed, and it becomes even smaller when Owen and Hannah inevitably pair off and huddle close together.

“Are those two always like that?” Dani whispers.

Jamie looks at Hannah and Owen who are sitting close together on the opposite side of the bonfire, talking in voices soft enough for just the two of them to hear.

Jamie looks at them fondly, her two best friends, and laughs, “Always.”

“God,” Dani says, “I’d like to have that someday.”

Jamie considers this and finds that while in theory, she can guess at how it must feel to love someone that much, she still can’t imagine what it would be like to _want_ to share everything with another person. 

“Have you ever had it before?” Jamie asks, never taking her eyes off of Hannah and Owen. 

“No.” Dani’s voice is a soft and wilted thing; so bare and so wistful, “I don’t think so.”

“What about your ex? Is it okay if I ask..?”

“Yeah,” Dani sighs, “that would probably come up in the immigration interviews, right?” 

Jamie shrugs, “Reckon so. Seems like an important event in your life.”

Something slips into Dani’s expression for just a moment before it’s gone, and she says, “Eddie was my childhood best friend. We met when we were six and looking back, I’m not sure that it was the _right_ kind of love, but I do think that I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone. So, when we got together in high school, it was like it just...made sense.”

“How so?” Jamie says, because it doesn’t make much sense to her at all. 

Dani shrugs, “Well, when a boy and girl are best friends, everyone just assumes that when they grow up, they’ll get together, so they do, and then when they finish college, everyone assumes they’ll get married, and we almost did and I think we would have if things had gone differently. We got along, his family loved me, it made sense.”

“Poppins,” Jamie says, frowning a little, “I’m certainly no expert, but that sounds so transactional. So...practical.”

“Don’t tell me that Jamie Taylor is a closet romantic.”

“First of all, I’ve been out of the closet for _years_.” Jamie says, and this earns her a shove from Dani. “But I just think that if you’re going to go through with the settling down bit, it should be with someone who looks at you like that.” 

Jamie nods in the direction of Owen and Hannah who are still huddled close together around the fire, laughing as though they might just be the last two people on earth, like maybe Jamie and Dani aren’t here at all, and Jamie thinks for just a moment that she wouldn’t mind having _that_. 

“Yeah,” Dani says,“I think you’re right. I think that’s why I knew that I couldn’t marry Eddie.”

“Did you _ever_ feel that way about him?”

“No,” Dani shakes her head sadly, “I don’t think I ever did, and I could never understand why.”

“How about now? Being away from all of it. Has it helped?”

Dani turns to look Jamie full in the face, smiles softly, and says, “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good for you, Poppins.” Jamie says and she _means_ it.

“Yeah,” Dani murmurs, “good for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support so far! I’d been on a bit of a hiatus for a while and all of the comments and kudos have been really nice. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I’m aiming to have the next one up this weekend if not sooner!


	3. Where This Flower Blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. This chapter fought me. As always, massive thanks to dxbshevd for reading this several times and ensuring that this got posted eventually.

I.

If spending time with Dani Clayton has taught Jamie anything, it’s that a person who listens well without prying is a dangerous thing. With time, Dani’s gentle attentiveness draws a frankness out of Jamie that she’d never known she was capable of. In Dani’s presence, Jamie finds comfort in recounting the mundane details of a long day, and she eventually starts to divulge her feelings without requiring any prodding or encouragement. At first, she is unsettled by the subtle ways in which Dani’s presence has begun to change her, and then within a matter of weeks, Jamie learns to revel in it.

Another thing Jamie learns is that Dani has an impeccable memory for the little things, an aptitude for recalling passing comments and forgotten moments. This thoughtfulness is made apparent when Dani shows up at Jamie’s flat for a movie night, holding a copy of “Sabrina” in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. 

When they settle in to watch the film, Jamie questions the film choice as the opening credits begin to roll. Dani tosses a handful of popcorn into her mouth and reminds her that during one of their earliest conversations she’d mentioned in passing that she’d never seen an Audrey Hepburn film. Jamie doesn’t call attention to Dani’s thoughtfulness, but she holds it close.

Jamie also discovers new things about herself: like the fact that she too can be a good listener when the person has interesting things to say, and then after just few weeks of movie nights and pints shared at the pub under her flat, Jamie discovers that for all of her American spellings and inability to make a non-toxic cup of tea, Dani makes quite a good companion.

One Sunday afternoon, the two of them are sat on Jamie’s couch after work when Dani turns to her out of the blue and asks, “What was little Jamie like?” 

Jamie frowns and plays with a loose flap of faded denim around an exposed kneecap, “It’s not really a happy story, Dani,” she says and expects Dani to be satisfied with this answer.

“So?” Dani retorts around a mouthful of popcorn, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jamie shrugs, “I just don’t want to depress you with all of that old shite.”

Whether Dani senses Jamie’s hesitation and presses on anyway or whether she honestly believes that Jamie needs to be convinced that she cares, Jamie will never know. 

Dani just squeezes Jamie’s arm and says, “Jamie, you’re my friend. I want to know about you.” 

And that’s enough. 

Jamie chews the inside of her cheek and muses aloud, “I suppose that I was pretty tough and resourceful. I must have been. Reckon I wouldn’t have made it this far, otherwise.”

For now, that’s as far as Jamie is willing to go. No need to hash out all of the trauma of being an unloved child all in one go. The really ugly bits can wait for later, if Dani is still around by then.

“What about you, then?” Jamie asks, “What was little Poppins like?”

“She was…” Dani stares into the flickering television and says, “She was really sad, I think. Sad and she didn’t even know it. She was lonely, too.”

“Why didn’t you know that you were sad?” Jamie asks, perplexed. 

“I just didn’t have much to compare it to. My dad died when I was really young and my life was just, like, never good again,” and to Jamie’s surprise, Dani doesn’t really sound sad when she says this, just thoughtful, a little wistful, maybe. 

They reach into the bowl of popcorn wedged between them at the same time, each lost in her own thoughts and their fingers brush together.

Jamie’s eyes find Dani’s in the glow of the television and murmurs, “How is she doing now?”

Dani smiles, “She’s figuring it out, I think.” 

Jamie isn’t sure if she imagines the gentle sweep of Dani’s thumb over her knuckles, but she chooses to believe that it was real.

On another occasion, they wind up on the couch at the manor watching “Splendor in the Grass” on the big screen. When Deanie sits in the bathtub and screams at her mother, Jamie watches, entranced. The rawness of Natalie Wood’s performance, the vulnerability of it makes the hair at the back of her neck stand up and she can’t quite bring herself to look away.

Dani nudges her shoulder and jokes, “Jeez, take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Jamie delivers a trademark smirk and scoffs, “Natalie Wood was fit as fuck. What’s a gay to do?”

Jamie turns her attention back to the movie and figures that the conversation is over until she hears Dani say her name. Jamie looks over and sees Dani staring down at something between her shoes, and whatever it is that she’s seeing, Jamie wishes that she could see it, too.

“Jamie,” Dani whispers, “What’s it like?” 

Jamie tilts her head and asks, “What’s what like, Poppins?”

“Being gay,” Dani flinches a little when the word “gay” passes through her lips, like it tastes bitter or scalds her. The question makes Jamie feel vulnerable and raw, exposed, even. She wants to tell Dani that lately, being gay feels like developing a crush on your best mate’s cousin who is also maybe using you for a green card, but that doesn’t seem like the sort of answer Dani is looking for.

“Why would you ask  _ me  _ that?” Jamie narrows her eyes, “Do you think  _ I’m  _ gay?”

“What?” Dani stammers, “I mean…”

“I’m kidding, Dani.” Jamie nudges her shoulder, “I was just messing with you.”

Dani frowns, features bathed in pale blue light from the television. It’s obvious that  _ she _ isn’t kidding, that she really wants to know, so Jamie exhales a deep sigh and decides to be serious.

“Hmm,” Jamie says as she settles back against the couch cushions, “I’m as gay as the day is long. But what’s it  _ like _ ? I dunno, it’s like anything else, I think. I put my trousers on one leg at a time, maybe drink too much at a bar, and then I wake up next to a random woman instead of a smelly bloke.” 

“Huh,” Dani says, and she appears to be turning that over in her mind. 

Then Jamie asks, “What’s it like being straight?”

“I don’t know…” Dani says and trails off. 

Jamie taps Dani’s foot with one of her own, “See what I mean?” Jamie asks, “How do you just describe what you are on the spot like that, when you haven’t known anything else?”

“Right,” Dani blinks, “exactly.”

A few weeks later, Jamie pirates the movie they want to watch off of a shady website that will probably steal her credit card information, so they settle down side by side on Jamie’s bed with her laptop in front of them and the popcorn bowl between them as usual. 

In fact, the only truly unusual thing about the evening is the way that Dani dozes off during the last few scenes of “Some Like It Hot” and winds up snoring softly with her head on Jamie’s shoulder. 

Jamie knows that she should wake her, and she almost does, but can’t quite bring herself to do it.

“Shit,” Jamie murmurs as she closes the laptop and sets it on the night table.

Awkwardly, while working hard to avoid jostling Dani, Jamie manages to reach the blanket tossed carelessly over the foot of her bed. With a hint of amusement, she realises that it’s the same afghan she’d covered Dani with on that first night, after she’d rescued Dani from the storm. This time, she moves the popcorn bowl, sets it aside, and drapes the afghan over their laps. 

She doesn’t wake her.

In the morning, Dani is mortified. Jamie tries to play it cool, but feels the bite of shame burning her cheeks. Even if Dani doesn’t know it, Jamie knows that she crossed a line, that she should have woken her up.

Jamie isn’t unfamiliar with this old song and dance, and it certainly isn’t the first time that a straight woman has woken up next to her and panicked in the morning. It’s nothing new. Except, this time it’s Dani, and that makes all the difference.

“God, Jamie.” Dani groans, “You should have woken me up, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s alright Poppins.” Jamie clears her throat, still raspy with sleep, “I fell asleep myself,” Jamie lies, “I didn’t even realise.”

But she had realised. She’d realised and chosen not to say anything, and now she wishes that she could go back and do it over, or that she could find the right thing to say to Dani now that it’s done.

Before Jamie can stop her, Dani rushes out into the rain, apologises and says that she’s going to catch the bus to Owen’s so she can get changed before work. 

So that’s it, Jamie figures, friendship done. It was nice while it lasted.

That afternoon, Dani finds Jamie at work, sat under a tree with a cigarette in one hand and a tattered copy of “East of Eden” in the other. Ordinarily, Jamie would have spent her lunch break in the kitchen with everyone else. She would ruffle Miles’ hair. She would listen to Flora regale her with a thrilling tale about a dream she’d had about a benevolent ghost. Hannah would scold her for tracking dirt into the house. She would smile at Dani and lean close to whisper an invitation to the pub that evening, quiet enough that no one else would hear.

But not today. Not after last night. Not after this morning when Dani had looked at her  _ that way  _ and walked out, probably thinking all the way to the bus stop that Jamie isn’t worth the effort, that she isn’t worth the risk that Jamie might actually  _ like  _ her and make it weird.

“Hey,” Dani says.

“Hello,” Jamie murmurs, but doesn’t tear her eyes away from the book.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Dani begins, “I would’ve brought some tea or something, but Hannah told me that it was probably best if I didn’t.”

“Why would you bring me some tea?” Jamie asks, eyes still fixed on the same page she’s been staring at for ten minutes, “Are you mad at me or something?”

Dani frowns and shakes her head. “Look,” Dani says, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I was weird this morning.”

“It’s not a big deal, Poppins.” Jamie shrugs, “It wasn’t the first time a straight woman fell asleep next to me and rushed out in the morning. Probably won’t be the last, either.”

“Oh,” Dani says, confused, “is that why you think I —“

“Look,” Jamie cuts her off and finally looks up at her, “it’s fine, alright? I’m really not upset with you, but there’s no need for you to threaten me with grievous bodily harm.”

“What?”

“The tea.”

Dani kicks at Jamie’s boot and laughs, “Oh, shut up.”

Jamie laughs with her and it feels good. It feels like relief.

When their laughter dies down, Dani looks serious again and asks, “Are we really okay?”

She’s lovely from this angle, Jamie thinks. Looming over her, larger than life, haloed in sunshine. Jamie wonders vaguely if this is what a flower sees when it stares up at the sun, and if it is, she envies them. 

“Yeah, Poppins.” Jamie says and sets the book down in her lap, “Golden.”

The next time Dani stays at Jamie’s flat watching movies until the wee hours of the morning, Jamie invites her to stay, and Dani agrees without much of a fight as she stretches out onto the couch. 

The next time it happens, they move through the routine of Jamie loaning Dani some clothes to sleep in along with a pillow from her own bed without any discussion at all.

  
  


II.

  
  


“On a scale of one to American,” Jamie asks, “how would you rate her?”

Hannah laughs and lowers her voice conspiratorially, “American.”

She’s talking to Hannah while they enjoy a cup of tea on the grounds, but she can’t tear her eyes away from where Dani is crouched down, pointing at something within the depths of the pond. She has one of the children on either side, bookending her, and they appear to be listening intently and responding to her questions with enthusiasm.

Just as Owen had predicted, Flora and Miles are crazy about Dani, although Miles is ten years old and would rather die than admit it. Dani is wonderful with them, truly. When she teaches them, she speaks in a calm, careful voice and she always finds practical ways to drive their lessons home. For this task, she enlists the three other adults in their lives: Hannah, Owen, and Jamie herself.

One afternoon, Owen helps the children bake a cake, and Dani seizes the opportunity to prove that contrary to Miles’ opinion, maths  _ will  _ have a practical application in their lives. A week or two earlier, the three of them had accompanied Jamie on a nature walk through the grounds while Dani explained the process of photosynthesis and the importance of preserving natural habitats. 

And Hannah is always there in the background, willing to step in whenever she senses that Dani needs a night off. The end result of all of this being that in the short time that she’s been in their lives, Dani has somehow brought all of them closer together. It’s remarkable, really, the way one person can come into an established dynamic and breathe new life into it. 

“Jamie, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Hannah says, “there’s a crack in the kitchen ceiling. Would you mind having a look?”

“Oh, sure.” Jamie nods, “I’ll see to it before I go home.”

“Thank you, dear.” 

“Not a problem,” Jamie settles back in her chair and shakes a cigarette out of its pack into her open palm.

Hannah fixes her dark eyes on Jamie and then looks slowly to Dani where she’s crouched down speaking to Flora at eye level, one hand resting on Flora’s tiny shoulder. Jamie still can’t take her eyes off of her.

“Owen told me what you lot are up to, you know.” Hannah says quietly, “It’s absolutely mad. Even for you.”

“Hannah,” Jamie laughs, “would you believe me if I told you that this isn’t even the craziest thing I’ve ever done?”

Hannah brings her teacup to her lips and takes a long sip before she answers, leaving a stain of lipstick visible around the rim. 

“Jamie,” Hannah says, “are you sure about all of this?”

“Of course I’m sure, I told Owen I’d do it, right?” Jamie asks, “I’m a lot of things,” she adds, “but I’m not a liar.”

“I just want you to be careful, dear.” 

“Careful of what?”

Hannah gives Jamie a knowing look and nods her head toward Dani.

“What about her?” Jamie asks, fidgeting with her lighter.

“It could get complicated, that’s all”

“Why would it be complicated?” Jamie insists, “We’re  _ friends _ . Even if she is American.”

Perhaps sensing Jamie’s growing indignation, Hannah nods and says, “Alright then, love.”

It’s a beautiful afternoon and the grounds look especially green after the storm they’d just had. It all feels alive, somehow, and she can’t help the bolt of pride she feels knowing that  _ she  _ did this. That she alone has tended to these grounds and made them into the eden they have become.

If I never do anything else, Jamie thinks, at least I did this.

“Well,” Hannah says, “if you really are hellbent on doing this, when is she going to move in?”

“Move in?” Jamie scrunches her nose, “What d’you mean?”

“Jamie…” Hannah says, staring at her with something like disbelief, “Married people live together, don’t they?”

Jamie can’t bring herself to do anything but gape back at Hannah with an unlit cigarette between her lips and her lighter forgotten in the palm of her right hand.

“Jamie, dear. Surely you’ve talked about this. Or at least thought about it?”

“No,” Jamie says lamely, “we haven’t really…talked logistics.” 

“If those immigration people actually bother looking into this whole thing, surely the pair of you having separate addresses would raise a red flag.”

“Right,” Jamie argues, “sure, but my flat is too small. I’ve only got one bedroom.”

Hannah raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, “Don’t married people usually share a bedroom?”

Of course they do, and Jamie, having had hardly any model for this in her own childhood, had completely overlooked it.

“Fucking hell…” Jamie groans, “Hannah, what am I meant to do with  _ this _ ?”

“Well, I think the only two options are to either move her in and keep this up, or call the whole thing off.”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Jamie growls and drags her fingers through her hair, “why didn’t anyone  _ tell  _ me about this? Why didn’t anyone bring it up? Does Dani know?”

“Does Dani know what?” 

Jamie looks up to see Dani strolling toward them with a wide smile on her face. Innocent and unsuspecting.

“Fuck me.” Jamie mutters and climbs to her feet, “I’m gonna go have a look at the ceiling.”

She can feel Dani and Hannah staring after her, watching her as she breezes past Dani and storms off. 

  
  


III.

Dani for her part, really does seem sorry about the whole thing when they discuss it later that same afternoon. Dani finds Jamie high up on a ladder in the kitchen, attempting to patch the crack in the ceiling, and clears her throat. 

When Jamie glances down at her, Dani says, “I asked Hannah to watch the kids for a bit. I figured we should talk.”

“What’s there to talk about, Poppins?” Jamie looks away from Dani and busies herself with the ceiling again, “It’s all been decided, really, hasn’t it?” 

“Jamie, I’d honestly forgotten about it until Hannah brought it up the other day. I was going to ask you, but I just couldn’t find the right time.”

“Were you actually ever  _ going _ to tell me, or were you planning to just show up at my flat with a couple of suitcases?” 

“Jamie,” Dani steps closer to the ladder and stares up at her, “we honestly don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to. If you just say the word, we’ll call the whole thing off. I wouldn’t even be mad.”

Jamie hears in Dani’s voice that she means it, which is the worst part of it all. How can Jamie possibly turn her down when she’s being this fucking saintly about the whole thing? So she climbs down the ladder and rakes the back of her hand across her forehead, “Look, Poppins. It’s fine, alright? We can make it work for a few months until my lease is up and then we can get a bigger place. It’ll be just like being roommates, and it doesn’t have to be forever.”

“Yeah?” Dani says, hopefully.

“Sure,” Jamie agrees, “you’ll find a lovely Englishman that you’ll  _ actually _ want to marry sooner or later, this is just a way to keep you here so that can happen,” Jamie jokes. The joke is half-hearted, but she’s pretty sure that it lands.

Dani still looks unsure, so Jamie rests a hand on her shoulder and adds, “Honestly, Dani, it’s fine.”

IV.

The following weekend, Jamie stands around with her hands on her hips, watching as Dani and Owen carry a few small boxes of Dani’s possessions into Jamie’s flat. She feels vaguely nauseous, so she spends more time on the balcony with a cigarette between her lips than she does actually watching this unfold, but she feels nauseous and panicked all the same.

When Owen leaves, Dani steps out to the balcony and clears her throat. 

“Jamie,” Dani says, “thank you for all of this. I know it’s a lot, and I just want you to know how much it means to me.”

“It’s alright, Dani.” Jamie shrugs, even as she lights another cigarette immediately after finishing the first. 

“Okay,” Dani says slowly, dragging out each syllable as she does, “well, I was thinking that maybe I could make dinner for us and then we could watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, I already have plans.” 

“Oh.” Dani says, disappointment tangible in her that single word, “Oh, I was just hoping that maybe -“

“There will be other nights, yeah?” Jamie says as she flicks some ash over the railing of the balcony, but she can’t bring herself to look Dani in the face, can’t stand to see the hurt she’s causing her as she stands there so casually.

“Right.” Dani agrees, “You’re right. That’s fine, I’ll just -”

“You know, Poppins.” Jamie cuts in, “I might be out until late, maybe it’s best if you take the bedroom tonight and I’ll camp out on the couch, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dani murmurs as she turns to go back into the flat, “yeah, that’s fine.”

  
  


V.

  
  


“Point taken.” Viola pants into Jamie’s hair.

They’re pressed together in Viola’s bed, skin slick with sweat. It’s too warm to be close together like this under the heavy blanket, but Jamie can’t bring herself to slip away. Not yet.

So, she peppers kisses all over Viola’s neck and chest, murmuring against her skin, “What do you mean?” 

“Last time you were here, I told you to come back if you needed to prove anything else to yourself.” Viola sighs, “Well, I don’t know about  _ you  _ but you nearly have  _ me _ convinced.”

Jamie frowns and sits up, leaning back against the wooden headboard and asks, “Is this your weird way of saying that the sex was good?”

“No,” Viola says, “this is my way of saying that the sex was phenomenal.”

“Nothing new there,” Jamie smirks, feeling rather pleased with herself. 

Viola just rolls her eyes at that and leans over to grab a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from the night table. Jamie watches her graceful movements as she lights a cigarette for herself and then another for Jamie. Viola holds the cigarette out to her and asks, “How’s the American?”

Jamie accepts the cigarette, inhales and says, “Can we not talk about her?” She tips her head back and exhales, watching the cloud of smoke float toward the ceiling.

“Sure.” Viola says and sets an ashtray down in her lap, “Whatever you want.”

Jamie isn’t sure why, but she feels compelled to explain, “It’s just kind of weird to talk about her with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you and I are sleeping together, and she and I are...whatever.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. We’re  _ friends  _ with benefits. Isn’t that what you young people call it?”  Viola drawls, “We’re friends, you can talk to me.”

Fuck it, Jamie thinks, why the hell not?

Jamie groans and rakes her fingers through sex-tousled curls, “She’s just  _ everywhere _ , Vi. She’s sweet and fun, and I genuinely like spending time with her, but she’s  _ everywhere _ .”

Viola narrows her eyes and exhales a thick cloud of smoke, “How do you mean?”

“Well,” Jamie reaches into Viola’s lap to tap some ash off of the end of her cigarette, “we already worked together at the manor and now we kind of live together.”

Viola’s eyes widen in surprise, “How the hell did that happen?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, he’s working late and won’t be home for another couple of hours. I’ve got time.”

Jamie tilts her head back again and sighs, “Have I told you that she’s Owen’s cousin?” 

Viola doesn’t say anything, but Jamie can feel Viola watching her with a curious stare. She just inhales and exhales and waits for Jamie to explain.

“She just needed a place to stay,” Jamie offers. “didn’t wanna live with Owen anymore and I don’t blame her.”

“Owen is a bit of a prat.” Viola laughs, “Very sweet guy though.  _ Great _ moustache…”

“Oi!” Jamie nudges her, “Are you going to start shagging him, too?”

“Of course not, darling.” Viola laughs, “We all know he only has eyes for your Hannah.”

“Tell  _ them _ that,” Jamie mutters.

“Alright,” Viola says, “well, what’s all this got to do with you and your flat? Your one bedroom flat, I should say.”

“They asked,” Jamie shrugs, “and I couldn’t bring myself to say no.” 

“Being unable to bring yourself to say ‘no’, is hardly the same as agreeing to it.”

“I know that.” Jamie snaps, “But I couldn’t say it then, and now she’s  _ everywhere. _ ”

“Ahh,” Viola laughs, “so that’s why you’re here?”

“I can leave if you’d like,” Jamie says, tone icy.

“I’m not saying that, dear. But much like last time, you were ehm, especially  _ enthusiastic _ tonight. It makes sense that you’re running from something. That’s all.”

Jamie abruptly throws the covers back and begins rifling around for her clothes, “I’m not  _ running _ from anything,” She snarls.

“Sure, dear. Whatever you say.”

It isn’t until she reaches the pavement in front of Viola’s house that she realises that she doesn’t want to go home, doesn’t think she can face Dani. So instead, she walks in the opposite direction of her flat to her favorite pub across town.

VI.

It’s some time after midnight when Jamie stumbles into the darkened flat, grateful that they’d decided that it would be Dani’s night to take the bedroom. Jamie tries to be quiet, she really does, and it goes well until her foot catches on the rug, sending her sprawling onto the floor. When she hits the ground, a puff of air is forced out of her lungs, and all she can do is lie there, stunned.

“Jamie?” Dani calls, flipping a light switch as she rushes over to find Jamie flat on her back.

Dani is wearing a long shirt and sleep shorts which leave a long expanse of pale skin visible. Even in her drunken state, Jamie feels a rush of shame for looking at Dani that way without permission so she closes her eyes. An unfortunate side effect of Jamie’s attempt to remain chivalrous is that the room immediately begins to spin.

“Jamie, are you alright?” Dani says.

“Just fine, Poppins.”

“Then why are you on the floor?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Jamie giggles, “Just thought I’d see what the flat looks like from this angle.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Extremely.”

“Do you need help?”

“Help?” Jamie laughs again, but it’s hollow, “Wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Come on,” Dani says and holds out a hand, “let’s get you up.”

Jamie accepts the hand and allows Dani to pull her to her feet. Before Jamie can stop herself,

she asks, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends?”

Jamie squints at her with one skeptical eye and tries to make sense of the last several hours, but all she manages to say is, “What about Viola?”

“What? Who is that?”

“I was at her house before I was at the pub. She’s straight,” Jamie explains, “kind of like you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, only, sometimes she  _ isn’t  _ straight.”

Jamie says, and then adds, “Like tonight, for example.”

“Oh.” Dani says quietly.

“And I told her about you. I told her how pretty you are.”

“Well, that’s very nice,” is what Dani  _ says _ , but it doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s very nice at all. In fact, she seems to be extremely displeased about something, and the pinched look on Dani’s face seems to support this hypothesis.

“Come on Jay.” Dani loops an arm around Jamie’s waist and leads them toward the bedroom, “You have to help me out here.”

“Because you  _ are  _ pretty, Dani.” Jamie babbles, “And you’re so nice. That’s why I -“ Jamie claps a hand over her mouth and stops so suddenly that it nearly throws them off balance.

Dani recovers her footing and stares at Jamie, blue eyes wide, “Why you what?”

Jamie shakes her head and then regrets it immediately when her stomach churns, “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Okay,” Dani says, “let’s just get you into bed, okay?”

“I’m not very tired.”

“I suspect that by the time we get you to bed, you’ll feel differently.”

“I suspect that I won’t,” Jamie retorts, and she sounds so childish that the only thing she’s missing is a blown raspberry or middle finger.

When Dani reaches for the doorknob to Jamie’s room, Jamie shouts, “No!” and wrenches out of Dani’s grasp so violently that she nearly falls over, “It’s your turn to sleep in there and I’m meant to sleep out here.” She emphasizes this statement by pointing first toward the bedroom and then in the vague direction of the couch.

“Right, but you’re already going to feel like shit in the morning, no need to give you a backache on top of it. Now come on,” Dani huffs and pulls them into the bedroom.

This time, Jamie goes along with her, but she frowns the whole way, just so that Dani can see that she isn’t pleased about it.

If Dani notices this, she doesn’t acknowledge it at all on her quest to get Jamie into bed. She just asks, “Jamie, where do you keep your pyjamas?”

Jamie sinks down onto the foot of the bed and points toward the dresser. She lowers her head and says, “I’m sorry about earlier. When I left. It’s not your fault, Dani.”

Dani doesn’t respond to this and instead continues to rifle through dresser drawers until she produces a shirt and shorts for Jamie to wear, “Here you go, Jay. You should get changed into these.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.” Jamie explains, “I was just...mad.”

“Wasn’t aware that you were mad to begin with.” Dani shrugs, “Do you need help getting changed?”

“I’m really sorry, Poppins,” Jamie groans, apparently unaware that she and Dani appear to be having two completely different conversations, and that for once, Dani doesn't seem interested in hearing what Jamie has to say.

“Nothing to apologise for.” Dani shrugs again, “Be right back.”

Dani returns with a glass of water and holds it out for Jamie to take. 

“Alright, take these,” Dani says and drops a few Paracetamol into Jamie’s palm.

Jamie obliges, swallows, and sets the glass on her night table.

“Poppins, I really am sorry.”

“I forgive you for whatever it is that you’re sorry about, now let’s get you changed.”

“I’m really trying, Dani.” Jamie says as she pops her head through her t-shirt.

Dani kneels before Jamie and goes to work untying her boots, then she meets Jamie’s eyes and attempts to console her, “I know, Jay,” Jamie thinks this is probably what Dani’s teacher voice sounds like, “and you’re doing great.”

“I’m not, though.” 

Dani tugs Jamie’s boots off and sets them neatly by the door, “I’m going to turn around so you can take your jeans off and get into bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Jamie says obediently.

Dani hears a few moments of rustling and when it stops, she turns to see Jamie settled beneath the sheets. 

Dani bends down to pick up Jamie’s discarded jeans and folds them, sets them down on the dresser, and says, “Okay, I’m going to turn the light off, now. Let me know if you need anything, Jamie.” 

“Dani,” Jamie slurs, voice already thick with sleep, “I’m trying  _ really _ hard to not like you, and I don’t think I’m doing a very good job at it.”

There is a long pause, a moment that stretches out so long that it feels like almost anything could happen. Like they are just one decision away from some sort of cosmic shift.

“I like you, too,” Dani whispers as she slips away.

VII.

When she’d chosen this flat, Jamie had specifically fallen in love with it because of its large bedroom with a huge window, perfect for hanging some plants and filling that large bedroom with plenty of indirect sunlight for the plants that don’t like direct sun. As she eases her eyes open to greet a flood of sunshine and a roaring headache, Jamie is sorely regretting her decision. 

That beautiful bedroom? It’s spinning.

The indirect sunlight? It feels extremely direct on her sensitive skin and behind her eyelids.

Her choices? Today, she’s questioning every choice that led her to this moment in this room with this monstrous hangover.

“Fuck,” She groans and then winces at the volume of her own voice. Her throat is dry, her mouth tastes foul, and it’s just so damn bright.

Things get steadily worse when Jamie manages to climb to her feet, holding her head with both hands as if trying to squeeze the radiating agony back into place. 

A glass of water, a handful of painkillers, and maybe a slice of bread, she thinks. That should put her right as rain. 

She frowns at her reflection as she catches it out of the corner of her eye. Her hair is at a stage far beyond normal bedhead, the bags under her eyes are truly spectacular, and her neck. Oh, God. Her neck is a minefield of bite marks and bruises that will have her wearing collared shirts for at least a week. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t give Vi a hard time over a mark or two, but  _ this _ , well, it’s just excessive.

When she stumbles out into the sitting room, she’s momentarily surprised to see a figure huddled on the couch in front of the television, but she recognizes that wave of blonde hair and the stiff posture that Dani only wears when she’s particularly pissed off about something.

“Dani?” Jamie croaks, “What are you…”

Then she sees a small pile of boxes in a corner and remembers. Dani lives here now. 

Dani’s face is nearly expressionless, as devoid of interest as if she were staring at a particularly uninteresting rock. It’s unsettling and alarming. 

“Here,” Dani says, holding out a mug, “it’s coffee.”

Jamie eyes her outstretched hand warily until Dani adds, “I didn’t make it, Jamie. I went to the little shop down the street.”

“Oh, alright.” Jamie rasps and eases down onto the couch next to Dani, wincing with pain as she does.

They drink silently for a while and stare at the TV which has the volume turned down so low that it’s just a faint murmur, but it’s loud enough that Jamie can hear the silly commercial that ends in a public service announcement that the local supermarket is going to have a killer sale on toothpaste soon.

When Jamie glances at Dani out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dani’s eyes fixed on the column of her throat. Jamie self-consciously rubs at her neck, at the hickies she knows are there. She would have pulled on a jumper if she’d remembered that Dani might be out here. She knows it doesn’t matter, and she knows that she’s allowed to sleep with middle-aged heiresses if she wants to, but parading around the evidence of it feels tacky. And to be tacky in front of someone as effortlessly elegant as Dani Clayton is, well, mortifying.

“Did I…” Jamie begins, “Did I wake you last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

Something like hurt flashes across Dani’s face so quickly that Jamie can’t be sure that she didn’t imagine it entirely. It might have been a trick of the light or some previously unrecorded symptom of a hangover. Maybe she’s a medical anomaly, a scientific breakthrough waiting to happen, evidence that violent hangovers can make it  _ seem  _ as though your roommate is looking at you like you are scum on the sole of her perfectly white trainers.

“Oh,” Dani explains, “you tripped over the rug when you got in. I made you take some Tylenol. I mean, Paracetamol. Made sure you got to your room alright.”

“I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother,” Jamie groans. They’ve been roommates for less than 24 hours and she’s already spectacularly fucked it up.

“No,” Dani assures her, “you wouldn’t let me help, really. Just wandered into your room by yourself. I made sure you took the Paracetamol though.”

“It was meant to be your night in the bedroom, though,” Jamie croaks.

“I’d already dozed off on the couch by the time you got home, so I just settled back down here.”

“Oh.” 

Most of the events of the previous evening are either a complete blur or an absolute blank space in her memory bank. She remembers the tension between them before she’d gone to Viola’s, which would explain the hickies, and then she must have gone to a pub, which would explain the hangover. 

But there’s something about the evening that doesn’t quite fit. Some piece of the puzzle she seems to be missing, and Jamie suspects that whatever that piece is, it probably has something to do with the way Dani is looking at her now.

Dani clears her throat after an awkward pause and stands up, “I’m gonna head out, if you’re okay.”

“Oh,” Jamie frowns, “I thought you said that Hannah offered to watch the kids so you could have today off to settle in?”

“Yeah, she did. But you know Hannah, there’s no way she’d call if she needed help, and I’m as unpacked as I’m ever going to be. I’m just going to go check on them, okay?” 

But Dani is already moving to grab her coat before Jamie has the chance to respond. She just pulls the front door open and stops long enough to say, “Call if you need anything.”

And then she’s gone. Jamie manages to cover her window with a sheet and crawls back into bed.

It isn’t until late on Sunday that Jamie starts to feel like herself again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Use British spellings and slang even though you’re extremely American,” they said.
> 
> “It’ll be totally quirky and clever,” they said.
> 
> “What could possibly go wrong?” they said.
> 
> ...it’s me. I’m “they”. 
> 
> I apologize in advance for any particularly egregious Americanisms.

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to my extremely talented friend dxbshevd for convincing me to actually do this, rereading this multiple times, and for writing fics that reignited my writing spark.


End file.
